


Weeds

by betterrecieved



Category: Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Extended Scene, M/M, Missing Scene, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betterrecieved/pseuds/betterrecieved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet.  Missing scenes from The Dead and the Dying. Contains graphic allusions to Nasir/Castus but no actual Nastus.  Also contains awful poetry. </p><p>Based on Nasir’s line from deleted scene: “He is gone because of me!  He would not have gone with Crixus had he not seen the way my eyes fell upon you!”</p><p>Spoilers for deleted Nagron and Nasir & Castus scenes. </p><p>This is some melodramatic ass shit.  I tried to have restraint but…</p><p>Pardon all mistakes, this is unbeta’d.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weeds

Darkness inside his tent is solid presence so insistent it could be Agron pressing in on him from all sides, wanting more, needing more, and Nasir can only give and give.

Nasir cries out wretched irrational plea. “I loved him!  I loved him! Return him to me!”

Gods return nothing to sinner.

*

His stomach no longer growls but sulks, easily ignored sensation which keeps him from fulfilling selfish craving.  To feel dizzy, to sweat and pant and exert himself to point of faintness upon training field is punishment insufficient, yet he will not turn disloyal to Spartacus, not even now when the world is drained of mercy and freedom has no meaning.

“I am alive?” he ponders aloud as he trains new recruit.  Nameless rebel startles, puzzled.  Nasir slaps him hard on unguarded flank with wooden sword.  Slaps him again across face, one side, then the other.

“Agron is dead and I yet live?  No.  We must follow Crixus together, Agron.  There is no life for me absent your presence.  We follow Crixus together!”

“Nasir!” calls reproachful voice.

(As most bad habits do, it begins harmlessly enough. In Sinuessa, before madness seizes Naevia and Crixus and Agron accuses him of more:

Castus’ voice calls his name in sensuous dream sharpened to heightened reality like blades of grass after spring rain:

“I seek not to claim it my own, merely…grace lips with its nectar.”

With Castus there is no security, only hands gripping him like vice, slender body writhing atop his own. Quick, assured movements until Nasir trembles beneath pirate who desires not to possess him, but instead drain what pleasure he can from quick encounter, leave the rest of Nasir for Agron to rebuild.

“I’ve been too long at sea.  Among…rough company.”

Strong hand wraps around his bicep, and Castus takes him in this same push-and-pull-and-push manner, nothing like Agron, who fucks him calmly, restrains him with no effort. 

“Words from mouth such as yours could move a man to forever turn from them.”

And Castus’ _mouth_ : Full, dark lips, so _soft_ , he can tell simply from looking.  So good to kiss and bite and ahhhhhhhhhh.

Nasir awakens, starting guiltily, wondering: ‘Have I answered pirate’s plea aloud?’

But Agron, holding him so tightly he cannot move to turn in his arms, says nothing.  Only reaches for oil and fucks him so deeply, so intensely that Nasir is crying afterward.)

Nasir drops sword to ground and with his head down walks quickly away.  When he is safely within his tent he assures Agron that he never looked at Castus just then, not once.

*

“Why are you forever burning hot like bonfire?” Nasir wonders.

Experienced rebels run short and Spartacus always needs his hand in some task or other, yet Nasir would linger here in tent for eternity, protected from freezing by larger body wrapped around him like walls of familiar home.

“It is in my blood,” Agron sighs. “Just as you are pleasantly warm like hearth.”

Nasir feels that he is missing something, that Agron speaks not plainly but with hidden meaning; words are harmless enough, but tone of voice is wistful. “You do not remain angered, I hope?” he asks.  “It is heart’s wish that we not fall constantly into disagreement.”

“No, I am not angered.  I cannot make apologies enough for words spoken in haste, Nasir.”  Arms tighten around him, rocking them side to side.  “You fit against my shoulder as if made from mold of myself.”

“My head goes here,” Nasir smiles, tilting back for soft smacking kiss.  “You will brush my hair tonight when I am done with guarding camp? I have found my brush among few things salvaged from city.”

“Yes, and braid pretty ribbon into its length also. Whatever you desire is yours.”

“So you will free Castus from bonds?” Nasir asks hopefully.

“I hold Cilician in distrust still. Though you are eager enough for his company.”

And they are back at beginning, Nasir thwarted in effort to reassure Agron, ready to cry in frustration.  “He saved me from Roman sword,” he reminds Agron.  “Still you would accuse me of unfaithfulness?”

(Nasir turns, his hands trembling as Agron stalks coldly past him.

“The man resents we yet draw breath,” Laeta complains.

“You do not stand object of his displeasure,” Nasir sighs. He is close to tears, panicking at thought that he has lost Agron’s love, and all because he ran into Cilician on his way to warn Spartacus.)

“Hush.  It is fear of pirate’s betraying rebellion I speak of now.”

Is he telling me untruth? Nasir thinks.  Then Agron grasps his chin, tilting him back for another kiss, and Nasir does not think anymore.

When Agron frees Castus Nasir puts all of his love into his eyes to thank him. 

“Do not fucking cast that look,” says Agron peevishly, stalking away.  Nasir smiles as he lowers his eyes, though he is caught out in his sweet manipulation.

After battle with Crassus’ men they move all night to make new camp.

Agron cannot keep promise, and Nasir does not fall asleep nestled between Agron’s hot thighs as his hair is gently brushed.

*

You have traveled nowhere in your freedom and you have not cared: You were with Agron:

Bringer of pain.  Force-er of pleasure.  Biter.  Batterer.  Heavy breather, grunting as he sinks teeth into your neck.  Mark-leaver.

When Agron sinks his teeth in, fucks into you with lovemaliceownership, you promise this man anything he desires.

Bites you hard and kisses you soft, slow movements all of them, target assured and willing, even when your body is not and you can only grimace, unable even to scream as you arch away from hurtlovehurt of Agron’s teeth and cock digging in.

“Yes, I will avoid Cilician,” you gasp. “I am yours, I am yours, I am yours,” you add unprompted.  “Agron.  I am yours.”

*

When Nasir happens upon Brictius pummeling bound pirate, his stomach twists.  It is akin to watching cringing helpless dog beaten.

“Brictius!  Fall from _fucking_ sight.”

When Brictius sneers that Nasir would stand bloodied as Castus were he not Agron’s boy, Nasir can only snicker.

Agron’s boy though Nasir is, Brictius’ cock is hardly of a size to cause him fear, and Brictius backs down from fight Nasir is prepared to give him.

“For such a little man, you speak as if a Titan,” says Castus, looking impressed.

Nasir crouches by his side, intending to wipe blood from Castus’ face, to reset nose if broken.  But his hands remain at his sides.

“Do not move me to regret coming to aid,” Nasir warns Castus tightly.  

Castus’ next words are spoken bitterly. “Brictius is a dim brute, but his tongue carries knowledge.  I stand a Cilician, and by tether of name, a traitor.”

“None should be darkened by shadow of another’s actions.”  As he speaks he sits by abandoned pirate, self-consciously covering his exposed legs with ends of cloak.

“A thing of no importance,’ Castus sneers. ‘I find myself where the fates have led…” Smile lights his handsome face. “And call it blessing to find you there as well.”

Nasir laughs, raising an eyebrow.  What amusing thing will pirate’s slick tongue say next? “In chains and bloodied, yet still attempting to flatter.”

“I attempt but to live life to the fullest measure,” Castus smiles. Then he turns serious. “And would take arms against Crassus to continue doing so.”

“You wish to fight?” Nasir turns his face blank as slave’s, watching Castus.

“Killing Romans was how I gained your trust, was it not? Perhaps…if enough fall to my blade, your brothers shall one day be so moved.” There is no mistaking Castus’ earnestness as he stretches bound hands toward Nasir.

Some unknown sense tingles in Nasir’s temples, and he looks up to see Agron across from him warming hands at fire, watching them warily.

‘It…is a decision removed from my hands.  But.’ He stands, uncomfortable with dilemma laid out before him.  ‘Know that thought is well received.’  With forced smile, he walks away without backward glance.

*

Bending to lash tent canvas to post, Nasir feels Agron’s big hand stroking his back, his shoulder. He stands to eagerly greet man he has barely seen in chore-filled rush of setting up new camp.

“Is it possible?  To slip from jaws of Crassus yet again?” Nasir marvels.

“I would not see you caught between them,” Agron smiles. But his expression falls as he looks over Nasir’s head at camp beyond. 

Nasir leaves Agron to his dark thoughts for now, once again bending to hastily finish setting up their tent.  He will take Agron inside when he is done, slide into his lap and with kisses chase thoughts of hunger and scores of untrained refugees away from Agron’s mind.

“I’ve…been overreaching in my efforts, and would share.”

Nasir turns to find Castus coming up to them, arms filled with firewood.

“If you’re of a mind,” Castus continues, addressing Agron, who only stares at him, tense and suspicious. 

Laeta’s scream of frustrated effort breaks tension, and Agron’s shoulders sag, his head dropping to his chest.  Taking up length of rope from ground, he directs warning to Castus. “See fire to life.  And know my eyes are upon you.”

*

Nasir crouches to skin hare, Castus across from him, mirroring his position as he begins to kindle fire.

“His eyes yet hold the promise of violence,” Castus remarks.

“Continue to prove yourself against the Romans and see it softened.”  Agron is good man beneath bluster, and friend of Rebellion soon valued ally.

“The man need not fall to worry in such regard,” Castus assures. “Yet in matters nearer the heart, his concerns are well founded.”

Nasir stares. “Rid yourself of them, and break no more upon subject.”

Castus only laughs. 

Nasir’s heart hammers within chest.

“If you’d laughed carelessly at my words, I would have known feeling misplaced. Yet you froth and foam…showing they strike reflective chord.”And Castus’ voice sinks to sibilant whisper.

Nasir forces out scornful laugh, though his face is afire like kindling before him. “You mistake reflection for your own.”

“And do I mistake…Your eyes stealing glance as I pass?  Or breath from lips catching when I draw near?” Castus prompts.

Nasir drops his head, eyes lowered.  Agron is only man he has ever loved.  Before Castus Agron was only man who caused pulse to quicken and decisive mind to waver in confusion.

He should take up fucking fists against Castus for liberties taken, for betraying Agron’s fragile trust, but he does not.  Agron yet watches them, and he would not have repeat of violent scene, for after all, this is man who saved his life.

Castus changes subject to banalities of cookery, and Nasir sits upon upturned crate, hands held aloft over Castus’ fire.

*

What can he do?  Agron says, “Do this thing for me.  For _me_.” And Nasir would _die_ for Agron.

He can only cry, because Agron’s request hurts him like sword through torso, because his tears unman his man.

He can only fall into Agron, defeated. 

No, he can remind Agron that he _lied_.  Last night in tent Agron stroked bristles of brush firmly through his hair to scratch at his scalp, scattered upside-down kisses all over his face as he entwined ribbon into freshly washed hair.

Agron _lied_ , because kisses held promise to do this for Nasir forever.

Agron strokes his back.  “Apologies.”

“Then you will not send me away?” Nasir lifts his head. He is dizzy from wine, stunned by Agron’s words, and radiantly hopeful of Agron relenting.

Agron presses his head back down. “Nasir.”

Nasir resorts to final weapon.  “Am I not yours?”  And Nasir’s hand lowers, palm grazing over material covering Agron’s soft cock. 

“Always,” Agron intones. But his hand closes around Nasir’s wrist like vise and moves it back to his shoulder.

They sleep apart that night, and Nasir falls to fitful, exhausted slumber on thoughts of Agron making love to him, awakens at dawn from dream of himself upon his hands and knees, Castus fucking him from behind like snarling dog.

*

I love Agron like gulping, flopping fish loves water, like nervous, twitching prey loves stalking predator and will not thrive outside its shadow. 

I love Agron like night transforms into dawn: seamless, endless, sudden.  He is my light; extinguish him and you have killed me.

“What of Agron? Does he share fate with Crixus? Or is he yet of this world?”

Naevia kills me without meaning to, without moving from her seat, without even a word.

(“You honored Agron well,” Naevia praises.

We have found our men together, we have lost our men together and now grieve as one vengeful mind.

I long to rip out throat of Roman opponent a thousand times more, and a thousand times more after, and again, until all of Rome lies gurgling blood from neck at my feet.

“As you shall honor Crixus,” I assure my sister. )

*

When stupid recruit repeatedly lowers guard during training it is as if he insults Agron himself, brave man who gave life so that useless fucking recruits might breathe air as free men.

Nasir raises arm to bring wooden sword down onto idiot’s skull, so that at least it might prove useful as vent for rage which coats Nasir like second skin.

“Nasir!”

Nasir freezes, lowering hand. Wherever he goes, fucking _pirate_ is nearby, watchful, crouching to strike.

“Point has been well made,” Castus admonishes, walking closer.

“Take meal and reflect upon lesson,” Nasir sighs, tossing sword to chastened recruit, who walks away silently, nose broken.

“Come. Let us fill discontent of stomach as well,” Castus suggests.

“I am of no desire.”

“Nor of nourishing words?”

Nasir drops his head as Castus moves to stand in front of him.  

“You’ve partaken of none since…unfortunate news.”

Nasir laughs bitterly. His eyes can hardly focus on cursed man before him. “You hold it so.” He slowly raises his heavy head, strings of hair falling into his sweating face.  “Does it not lift spirits knowing the man who stood between you and heart’s union has been…forever..removed from path?”  He can hardly speak the words; utterance drives final nail of finality into his heart. 

“I often held disagreement with Agron. Yet I am not absent feeling towards his fate.”

He stares up in disbelief as Castus, with sincerest of expressions upon face, fucking _lies_ to him.

“Or wound it inflicts upon one so undeserving.” Castus’ hand rises as if to brush away curl falling into Nasir’s eye.

Nasir knocks away questing hand, shocked to his soul at pirate’s boldness. “You would turn grief into fucking _opportunity_?”

Castus raises placating hands. “I seek only to give comfort to-“

But Nasir’s fist is driving hard into Cilician’s face, knocking him backwards with force of grief and fury. “You seek what you always have! Agron is gone from this world because of it!” he cries.

Castus straightens, and with persistence that enrages Nasir, is immediately back in his face. “He is gone because _he_ made _choice._ ”

With furious scream, Nasir once again pounds fist into dreaded face which no longer stalks his sleep yet refuses to cease haunting his waking hours.  “He is gone because of _me_!  He would not have gone with Crixus had he not seen the way my eyes fell upon _you_!”

Fist connects with satisfying crunch.  He swings again blindly, eyes squeezed shut, screaming like animal caught fast in painful, hopeless trap. Off balance, he trips over his own feet, falling bonelessly to ground.

Castus catches him, former dream of falling into pirate’s muscular arms coming true at nightmarish cost.  Nasir clutches at Castus’ hands to lever himself out of tight embrace, but his strength is depleted, his legs limp beneath him.  His face works, though he is emptied even of cleansing tears.

“The fault lies only in the times that we live,” Castus says thickly. “And in the gods that they turn away from the suffering of good men.”

Nasir can only shut his eyes against tears unlocked by pirate’s words, against cold dim future without Agron.

*

I honor Him now not with weeping

(In arms of castus I am flooded like summer storm, not with desire, but with tears plentiful as reasons to love Him

And the gods approve at last)

But defiant leaps

Dancing, murderous ecstasy

Spear extending love to heavens

Blood-thrust, arcing, sky-bound

I slay giants

In honor of fallen One

*

Nasir chomps at bit like unbroken horse, eager to fight in Agron’s name. 

He is fully outfitted as Gladiator for first time, though Spartacus has long since inducted him into sacred Brotherhood. 

“You are sight most fearsome,” says Castus, whistling admiringly as he helps fasten stomach guard of Nasir’s new armor which has been hastily altered to fit small man.

(“I cannot do it.” Nasir stares down at two steaming tubs of water Castus has dragged into his tent for him.  

“I meant no ill intent, Nasir!  Of course I will leave you to your bath alone,” says Castus hastily, backing towards tent flap.

“It is not- Gratitude for kindness shown in bringing bath to me. Yet I cannot wash his touch from me.  My hair…He wove ribbon into it with his own hands.” Nasir laughs mirthlessly at himself, unable to meet Castus’ eyes.

“Oh, _Nasir_.”

Castus pulls him into his hard chest, and Nasir lets him - where else can he go now? “I want _Agron_ ,” he moans.  “I need _Agron_.”

“He yet resides within you.” Castus rubs his back, and Nasir falls deeper into memories of Agron’s huge hands that nearly spanned Nasir’s waist.  Slow, solid strokes along his arms, his thighs.  Killing hands turned delicate, tilting up his chin.  “You cannot remove him.”

Nasir’s legs wobble beneath him, but Castus’ arms tighten. 

When Castus begins to undress him, Nasir stares at nothing, says nothing, feels less than nothing. His cock is so shrunken it might as well be gone. 

Castus loosens hold, gently pushes him towards tub. “Get in,” he urges. “I will steer you through crashing waves.”

Sinking down slowly into hot water, Nasir nearly smiles. 

Nasir is silent as Castus carefully scrapes strigil along his upper body, pours jugful of oil mixed with water over his matted hair, working sure fingers into Nasir’s scalp.  

Then he hands strigil to Nasir and turns around to face tent opening. 

Nasir stares at strigil, at Castus’ back. ‘Gratitude,’ he croaks.

But later, when Castus takes up brush and cleaned ribbon, Nasir shakes his head. That is meant only for _Agron_.)

“I am a Gladiator,’ Nasir tells him proudly. ‘I am _Agron_.”

*

“Would that those we held to heart stood among them.” Nasir stands by Naevia’s side, shaking his head bitterly at torturous sight of newly released prisoners streaming into camp. 

Castus call his name. Nasir turns around, blandly curious.  But Castus only stares forward until Nasir follows his gaze:

Spartacus walks forward, shoulder bent under weight of…

Nasir gasps, finds himself floating through tunnel of rebels, his most treasured dream come to life before him sharper than moment Spartacus tore collar from his neck.

Sharper than memory of lips softly pressing against his mouth: “This time you stay, and I go.”

It takes him years, pushing through thick, resistant air between them, but he finally stands before impossible dream come true.

Battered face does not immediately lift as Nasir moves in close, heavy bandaged hand does not drape itself over Nasir’s shoulder of own volition. 

But Agron’s bandaged torso _breathes_.

Nasir strokes beloved face, smiling through tears filling his eyes as head lifts and Agron’s lip trembles, green eyes meeting his. “Gods return you to my arms,” Nasir marvels.

“I was fool to ever leave them.”  And though statement puzzles Nasir, he does not argue, only turns to lead them to their bed which has traveled with them from Vesuvius and never gone so long without Agron.

Agron is reluctant to lean his weight on Nasir, but Nasir is insistent that he bear Agron's weight upon him, always, and they walk together, Agron’s body pressing against Nasir’s hot as midday sun.


End file.
